Twice a week---sort of---it happens. It might not be at the same time or on the same days. It might come when I've lost hope, but eventually it happens. About twice a week, Substack brings me a gem. A little miracle of words that articulates, better than I ever could, what I'm feeling. It's as if some stranger tapped into my being and figured out how to tell me something I needed to know in a way I could understand it. Of course, Alien Parades! How could I not have thought of that!
Mary Ann discusses, with words full of beauty and intention, the small spaces where we can create and share the communal moments we all need, crave, and miss.
For me, it was the barber shop, a place to shoot the shit. If you liked reading about Aliens on Bikes, maybe you'll also appreciate this one:
This is really funny. I left a comment under your comment and it disappeared so Iâll try again. I grew up on a street like that where there was nowhere air conditioning and people were outside all the time and you knew your neighbours and weâd all get together and have performances on the lawns. Those were the good old days.
Twice a week---sort of---it happens. It might not be at the same time or on the same days. It might come when I've lost hope, but eventually it happens. About twice a week, Substack brings me a gem. A little miracle of words that articulates, better than I ever could, what I'm feeling. It's as if some stranger tapped into my being and figured out how to tell me something I needed to know in a way I could understand it. Of course, Alien Parades! How could I not have thought of that!
Mary Ann discusses, with words full of beauty and intention, the small spaces where we can create and share the communal moments we all need, crave, and miss.
For me, it was the barber shop, a place to shoot the shit. If you liked reading about Aliens on Bikes, maybe you'll also appreciate this one:
https://writerbytechnicality.substack.com/p/shooting-the-shit?r=3anz55
I love this. It made me think of stories of life before air conditioning when folks were all out on their porches and neighborhoods were lively.
This is really funny. I left a comment under your comment and it disappeared so Iâll try again. I grew up on a street like that where there was nowhere air conditioning and people were outside all the time and you knew your neighbours and weâd all get together and have performances on the lawns. Those were the good old days.
You were lucky, Mary Ann.
This made me happy...tears though. (I think I am emotionally spent these days. I know that I am not alone, but still.)
Thank you Mary Ann for this smile that you have given me today!
(Wish I was there to see it too!)
Good tears for hope, what a lovely bike parade. Great for recalibration âšđČâšđ»âšđœâšđČ
It really did feel like permission, didnât it? A small, bright reset. Thank you for this. âš